Blood Bride (Aarabassa World)

by Vickers, Catherine L

  The Emperor gestured to the twinkling silver dots in the darkened skies.

  Look up there brother. I believe Aarabassa to be surrounded by other worlds full of other life. There is life aplenty in existence, yet you would deny me one small world. What is this world but a tiny pinprick in a large ocean of worlds?

  Saurlton sat his weary body on a large boulder.

  ‘Did not my brother protect me from those that might harm me?’ Saurlton recollected.

  Indeed, but he also made you aware of the bitterness in this world of turmoil. Our parents were kind, hard working people but still they withered and died for all their efforts.

  ‘As all life should. Even we, brother, with all the powers that we hold between us, do not even have an inkling of what rewards we might receive when we reach the Realm of the Dead. You never could accept an ending to anything.’

  I merely seek to prolong that which I hold dear. You betrayed me little brother so I no longer hold you dear.

  ‘Life is precious and dear to others?’

  Morte Bielz did not respond to his younger brother’s comment. Hovering on the surface of the ground next to Saurlton he maintained his position on equal terms.

  Your betrayal hurt me more than the imprisonment that you imposed upon me. I have not forgiven you in this.

  ‘I do not seek your forgiveness nor your approval.’

  Saurlton stood to face the figure that hovered by his side.

  ‘Why do you attempt to release the creature which will be your undoing?’

  ‘You should have more confidence in me.’ The Emperor spoke aloud with an eerie whisper, no longer wishing to continue this fruitless conversation with his bitter enemy. Distancing himself from the Ancient Mage he hovered higher above the lone figure.

  ‘I implore you Morte,’ Saurlton reverted to the familiar name he once called his older brother. ‘This creature is an Opposition Spell. He was created to undo that which I had done.’

  Yes, and you took him from me, when I had found him. I will control Vellar and he will destroy your Wall.

  The old man sat back down on the boulder. Such excitement made him weary. Putting his head in his hands that rested on his bent knees, he pleaded with Morte Bielz.

  ‘Vellar will destroy the monshaad race. You will be no more Morte Bielz Barronz.’ Only the Ancient Mage dare to refer to the Emperor by his full human title. ‘His mission is to defeat all dark magic. He is the only force on Aarabassa that can end the existence of a monshaad Lord. Why can you not see the danger in what you do?’

  The difference between you and I, little brother, is that you cannot control Vellar whereas I can. The balance of magic allowed me to create him to undo what you had done. I will have him at my control. I have not rested during all the crossings of the moons. I have increased my powers and readied my people for becoming the rulers of all Aarabassa. Now be gone, old man. We have spoken enough. Take your presence away or suffer my wrath. I will spare none, our blood ties ended when you betrayed me and imprisoned me in these Darklands.

  Vamplin soldiers surrounded the old man. Was he to become a prisoner? Perhaps it would be wise to allow himself to be captured, then he be could be close to the Emperor and hopefully stop his brother from progressing with his plans.

  He was marched through the vamplin camp. In the distance, he could hear the bears roar in their misery of imprisonment. Vamplin children had crowded to watch him pass, as he was led to the caves. He would be guarded closely until the Emperor decided what to do with him.

  The silver stars twinkled in the blackness of the skies. As they neared the caves, the noise of activity subsided and he felt calmer. The vamplins were an industrious race and their camps were as busy as any human village. He entered the dark cave opening, smelling dampness on the stone walls. At least the chill of the cold winds were gone, he could sleep for a while and then make his decision later on what his next move should be.

  With the knowledge that Raphael was ready to take his place in the world, he was confident the humans were ready for battle, but if it was possible to avoid battle then that would be a more acceptable conclusion. He had known all along that he could never persuade his brother to end this madness. He lay his weary bones down onto the animal skin they had left him, and closed his tired eyes. Sleep, he needed to rest, just for a short while.

  A grey shadow looked over a sleeping old man. The vamplins had not noticed the spirit of King Alfred drifting in the air when they had left the old man to rest. He could not trick the monshaads but the vamplins could not see the lost souls so easily. He would wait patiently until the Ancient Mage awoke. Somehow, he needed to find a way for the lost souls to leave this world and move on to the Realm of the Dead. The old man did not hold the key but the destruction of the monshaads surely would. Why did the old man not want to be rid of the monshaads? Brother or no, this had to be the answer. Vellar must be released.

  25 Levitation

  A sizeable army of shiny black myeaz warriors, lined the tunnel walls, remaining deadly silent. They did not wish to break or hinder the concentration of their leader who busily communicated with another, who was not amongst them. They were readying for battle but they knew not whom the enemy was. Huddled in the tunnels they had very recently burrowed into, all experienced a strange sensation, as if the sands surrounding them were on fire. Something stirred and they sensed the imminent danger.

  ‘My people are here,’ Quazat informed the human Prince.

  ‘How did you know that?’

  Amos still could not believe that an army of thousands of dedicated myeaz warriors waited at his fingertips.

  ‘In my lands, my kind sense danger in air. They have followed scent. I feel them in tunnels and I speak with them in many ways. They brave and not care of death. When I give order, they attack. Battle in tunnels. Slaves welcome invasion. Door to freedom. Listards know my kind no longer friends.’

  Amos spoke with Quazat quietly, with his head bowed. The humans in the group ignored their whispered conversation, all they were interested in was eating. Others were busy cooking.

  Amos used his small skills in an attempt to make a watery soup over a small fire.

  The listard slaves were plucking at the black cold walls in an effort to capture a tiny lingering bug. When they caught them either with their tongues or hands, they threw them into a thick green slop that they hastily stirred. Quazat had called this dish a Zchow. Crushed innards of small creatures mixed with rice.

  Amos shivered, relieved that he was not expected to eat such a unappetising swill. It was difficult to know the full content of the soup his companion cooked but he was confident it had no alien meat substance in it. It looked like some unknown vegetation, safe and edible. When he had questioned Quazat, he had just laughed and said it grew on the walls of the caves. He surmised it must be some kind of mushrooms and moss.

  Balancing on a seat of soft crumbling stone, he rested his arms on bent up knees. Slowly he sipped the thin soup from the tin bowl. Even Quazat lacked enthusiasm at meal times. When the Prince had emptied his dish, he stood up to stretch his limbs, using this as an excuse to look around and observe his surroundings. Quazat remained squat, a position he chose most of the time so he was unobtrusive. Amos looked over at the listard tent. The constant illumination of the flickering sconces, though not very bright, cast dark shadows into the distant alcoves but the tent itself was well lit from within. He could make out dark silhouettes moving around. Leon stood contemplating over the lack of developments since this leader had joined them, when he was suddenly thrown off balance by trembling walls.

  ‘That’s not your people getting too close is it Quazat?’ he asked of his myeaz companion.

  ‘Iced water. It melts in deep wells,’ Quazat replied.

  Activity increased within the cave chamber. The leading listard came dashing out of his tent and spoke with a group of guards. He appeared very excited and hurried the guards to dismantle the tent and move the slaves out of the c
hamber. He cared nothing for the health of the slaves, he merely did not want them to witness any unfolding events.

  ‘Pretend to be in a deep sleep Quazat. I want to delay our departure.’ Amos was determined not to miss out on any new developments. ‘You say, a deep well of ice, how can that be? In the middle of the desert,’ he whispered through the side of his mouth so none could see them in conversation.

  ‘Human,’ a loud croaky voice bellowed at him. ‘Wake that beast quickly or I’ll skewer his brains!’ The hostile listard threatened.

  ‘I’m trying to waken my friend,’ the Prince yelled back at him, unafraid. ‘I think he may be dead from our labours. I’ll move any moment now so take your ferocity elsewhere.’

  Quazat reverted to Mindtalk. Not want brain skewered. What you mean you think me dead? I wake up now? He was keen to move out with the other slaves and wondered at what this human Prince had sensed.

  No you can’t wake up yet! Leon shouted in his Mindtalk.

  ‘Call it a gut feeling but I think we should stay around as long as we can,’ he calmly spoke.

  Amos knelt down behind Quazat’s shiny head, while the myeaz feigned sleep. The trick worked well as no other listard seemed to notice them.

  The stifling heat in the chamber was increasing rapidly. The listards gathered around their leader showing no fear at the tremors around them. They circled and knelt down on the ground. Amos spotted the leading listard in the centre of the circle formation, standing motionless and chanting. His bulky body slowly lifted up and drifted towards the roof of the chamber, surrounded by swirling green gasses. Turning to face the cave wall, he raised up both arms, encompassed in an unseen force. An electrifying white light emitted from his fingers. The light appeared to melt the solid rock in a final attempt to break through.

  ‘Come forth almighty one. It is time to cross the seas and travel home to your Master,’ the leader yelled in a strange enigmatic voice.

  ‘Voice belong to monshaad Emperor,’ Quazat informed the Prince. ‘I feel presence in listard mind. It very strong.’

  ‘That gives us our proof,’ the Prince whispered. ‘These listards are in league with the evil forces of the Darklands.

  ‘We attack now?’ Quazat was ready for battle but the Prince was hesitant.

  ‘Soon,’ Amos replied. ‘Go to your people and ready them for battle. I’m staying here a bit longer I wish to know what it is they plan.’

  Again the floor rumbled. Amos held on to Quazat’s shiny raven black torso for balance. Quazat, still squat flat on the floor, slowly stretched one of his spiny limbs to assist the Prince’s balance in the tremors.

  The floating listard leader seemed unaware of his surroundings. Still deep in a hypnotic trance, he continued to direct the hot white light at the crumbling wall. The dazzling white thrum of power increased in its momentum. The other listards looked on in a trance like state, their wide eyes shining like black bright marble. They too seemed to be gaining a power from a hidden energy field.

  ‘Where is that power coming from?’ Amos wondered as he watched from a dark corner that shadowed them.

  ‘Other beings possess them. They lose control of minds. Many entities create this power.’ Quazat could not pinpoint from where the control came but sensed it was of evil proportions.

  ‘The monshaad Lords, it must be,’ the Prince voiced. ‘The Emperor could not do this alone and they all able to possess another’s thoughts?’

  ‘They wake Vellor,’ Quazat was certain of this much.

  ‘Hmm, to what purpose is a Fire Giant to an evil emperor on the other side of the world?’ the Prince could not solve this puzzle. Convinced now that the Emperor and his monshaad Lords were indeed behind this activity. Yet he could not see the reasoning behind the why and what for. What could a Fire Giant do for a monshaad? In his confused thoughts

  Amos had not noticed the listards had finally crumbled the cave wall. They worked quickly, putting their efforts into a thick layer of blue ice. It too was instantly melting. Through the ice, a dark shadow stirred. Quazat nudged the Prince from his deep thoughts, with a sharp prod from his long antennae at the top of his oval head.

  ‘Quazat, that’s not nice, it hurts! I thought I told you to go,’ Amos whispered as loudly as he dared, looking indignantly at the disgruntled myeaz warrior.

  ‘Not care it hurts,’ Quazat retorted. ‘You wake up. Listards break cave wall. I see what stirs beneath.’

  The listards still chanted with a low hypnotic humming of some language that Amos did not understand. He looked through the gaping hole in the cave wall and realised the thick wall of ice on the other side was melting rapidly. The dark shape within was becoming more apparent.

  ‘My comrades restless,’ Quazat said. ‘They sense panic from fleeing slaves They ask if we attack?’

  ‘Not just yet, Quazat.’ Amos scratched at his head as if he were solving a problem in his study back home. ‘I barely know what that thing is behind there.’

  It is Vellar, Fire Giant, what more you need?’

  ‘Yeah. Maybe we should charge in and slaughter the lot of them?’

  Amos was agitated. Being a leader was not as glamorous as he had imagined it would be.

  ‘I don’t think killing them will stop this Fire Giant from escaping, so what use is battle until we know …’

  ‘Prince must think quicker?’ The myeaz sensed his friend’s unrest.

  ‘Don’t you tell me to think quicker you overgrown …’

  Amos found himself speechless, realising that he was indeed panicking at the unknown.

  ‘Quazat, ask yourself why should this creature be of such importance to an evil presence at the other side of the world?’

  ‘I not know,’ Quazat had no answers to the Prince’s quandary.

  ‘Would you have attacked by now if I were not here?’

  ‘No. Only attack when danger near our nests. Humans different. They protect more than what belongs to them.’

  ‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Amos turned his frustrations on his friend. ‘Are you trying to tell me this is none of my business?’

  ‘I not think same, you do,’ the myeaz sighed at his own irritations. ‘Prince must make decision. My people follow you. Respect humans. Make choice now.’

  ‘I don’t know Quazat. I just don’t know. I’m only a Prince not a King.’

  ‘You a King soon. You learn. Now make choice.’‘And if I make the wrong one?’

  ‘Then you make new choice.’

  ‘Very well, then I say we wait. I say we wait to see what that thing is. I say, it’s going to come out whether we attack now or later, so we may as well wait. You go to your people and get prepared. But, you never know, it might turn out to be on our side’

  ‘Fine,’ Quazat cut short.

  ‘Good,’ Amos snapped.

  Neither looked at the other but both looked over at the chanting listards, who by now had almost managed to reach the dark shape that remained buried in the thick ice. Something was amiss.

  26 Spindly Legs

  The chaotic howling and shrieking of slaves escaping to freedom had now ceased. The tunnels were eerily quiet, only a feint howling wind was heard, folding around the bends and seeking sanctuary in the crevices. Whispering its weeping lament up the hallways to end in a large chamber where a human and a myeaz warrior watched the dying listards. One by one they dropped to the floor with a dull thud as the very essence of their lives sputtered to an end. The Emperor needed their efforts no more, he was almost there and he almost had a hold of his child. The mind control that his Lords held over each listard slowly diminished, their strength dwindled to a mere flicker, they had become useless vessels.

  ‘He’s killing them,’ Amos turned his face away from the sickening sight. The thick reptilian skin on their once bulky bodies now hung like crumpled sacks. Frey hallowed faces with lips drawn back to show grating teeth. Had they gritted their teeth together in harrowing pain? Lifeless gazes stared in wide-eyed revelation. Mo
ments before death they had realised that their very souls were at risk, never would they reach the Realms of the Dead. Forever they would remain in torment, their wandering souls trapped by the monshaads. Even a listard wanted peace in death. These poor creatures had believed they followed a strong new leader who had promised them riches if they aided him to release the sleeping monster. He had never unmasked his true desires, to eat their souls.

  Water flooded forth. The entire chamber quickly filled with the foul stench of the previously stagnant water.

  Amos struggled to remain afloat while his companion fared much worse. A myeaz is a land creature and has no knowledge of swimming. Quazat used his front legs to grip onto a small ledge jutting out of a corner. Amos swam to him and used his friends big body as a ladder to climb to the ledge. The water billowed around them and started to bubble and boil. Steam rose to the ceiling of the chamber and hissed out of the swirling liquid. Amos perched on the ledge and pulled with a demon strength he never knew he possessed. He would not allow his companion to boil alive in the swell of water that amassed around them. The myeaz felt the surge of human strength as he held on to the arm that helped him, and it urged him on to fight for his life. With his first thorax stretched half on the ledge, he managed to pull at the back one. This was indeed a private battle between life and death. He determined to beat the darkness that attempted to take the very last breath from his living body. He made one last effort to drag his remaining thorax from the heated water that churned around his helpless wiry legs.

  ‘Come on Quazat,’ the Prince yelled, fearing for his friend’s life. ‘You can do it, just one last pull. Do it Quazat or you’ll lose those spindly legs of yours, you overgrown beetle.’

  ‘I not beetle,’ Quazat crackled back, ‘I am ant!’ With one last thrust, his entire body rested on the ledge, pressing the Prince hard against the cavern wall.